Stronger
by Laura Schiller
Summary: A David Copperfield story based on the song "Oh Mother" by Christina Aguilera. Clara Murdstone finally learns to be firm - just not the way her husband expected.


Stronger

By Laura Schiller

Based on: David Copperfield

Copyright: Charles Dickens' estate (characters); Christina Aguilera (song lyrics)

_She was so young, with such innocent eyes.  
>She always dreamed of a fairytale life<br>and all the things that your money can't buy.  
>She thought that he was a wonderful guy.<em>

Clara Murdstone, formerly Copperfield, could pinpoint the very moment she realized what a mistake her marriage had been. It was the moment she threw her arms around her son, only to be stopped by a voice as cold as the November wind rattling the windows.

"_Clara._"

She looked up. The gentlemanly lover who had picked her white roses, kissed her hand as if she were a princess and smiled patiently at her silly jokes bore no resemblance to the husband now looming over her. This was a stranger, a tall black shadow whose eyes narrowed with disapproval. She drew Davy closer, feeling him tremble. Surely – surely there was nothing wrong with embracing her little boy after a week away from home?

"Control yourself, Clara. What have I taught you?"

Edward's black eyes were hard as obsidian.

She let go of Davy, and they softened. To reward her firmness of character, he kissed her hand as she left the room.

_Then suddenly, things seemed to change.  
>It was the moment she took on his name.<br>He took his anger out on her face.  
>She kept all of her pain locked away.<br>_  
>It was her own fault that they had to be stern – for being too weak, too childish, to take charge of a household and a growing boy. Edward and his sister were only doing their duty. Still, every time Jane's purse snapped shut on Clara's household keys, every time Davy froze under Edward's glare during his lessons, every time Jane and Edward combined to overrule her over some decision or other, Clara's soul cringed as if from the sting of invisible arrows. She knew she had no business feeling this way. She should be relieved to give over her duties to a capable sister-in-law. She should be thankful that her Davy now had a father to guide him. She should be happy that her loving husband wanted to help her become stronger.<p>

She refused to hear a word against "them two upstairs" from Peggotty. As dear and loyal as the old housekeeper was, she could never understand.

_It was the day that he turned on the kids  
>that she knew she just had to leave him.<br>So many voices inside of her head  
>saying over and over and over,<br>"You deserve much more than this!"_

"Edward, _no!_"

Clara had never raised her voice to him before, but the sound of Edward's cane whistling through the air made her sick. Davy's face was white with terror as he was hauled upstairs by the back of his shirt.

"Please, Mr. Murdstone – Sir, _please - _"

Even with her face buried in the sofa pillows, Clara flinched at every blow and every scream. All this over a failed exercise in multiplication, for heaven's sake. Was it the child's fault he had inherited his mother's poor head for numbers?

A memory hit her: ten years ago, sobbing into these same pillows over her hopelessly muddled housekeeping accounts. _If only I were more like Peggotty, or your Aunt Betsey – anyone but my foolish self … _A warm hand wiping her tears away. _Far better to be naturally Clara than anyone else. _

Mr. Copperfield. _David._ She had hardly dared to even think of him since her marriage, out of loyalty to Edward, but now she saw him in her mind as clearly as if he sat next to her on the sofa. David, his salt-and-pepper hair ruffled by the spectacles on his forehead, his blue eyes still as innocent as his son's.

She thought of the other child to come, still too small even to show through her gown. Now she understood why she had not yet told the Murdstones. If Edward were to ever hurt that baby …

_Your children deserve so much more, my love,_ David would say, _and so do you._

_She was so sick of believing the lies and trying to hide,  
>covering the cuts and bruises,<br>so tired of defending her life. She could have died  
>fighting for the lives of her children.<em>

Clara took the first opportunity to disappear into the kitchen, the only place where Jane did not deign to follow her.

"They mean to send our Davy away," she whispered. "Have you heard?"

Peggotty looked up from washing the dishes. Her eyes were red, but not from the soap.

"Aye," she grunted.

Clara could well imagine to what sort of boarding school Edward and Jane would send Davy in their attempt to 'correct' his disposition. She shuddered.

"We simply must _do_ something, Peggotty. But what?"

"I've a bit of money saved up, mistress," with a matter-of-fact shrug. "Enough to get as far as, say, Dover?"

"Are you saying we should … leave?"

The idea was alarming, as if the floor had dropped from under her feet. In spite, or perhaps because, Peggotty seemed so confident in her plan. Desertion. Disgrace. If she were caught – "Wait. Why Dover?"

"Master Davy's great-aunt lives there, don't she?"

That formidable woman who had stormed off in a rage when Clara's baby had turned out to be a boy? Clara's _No!_ was on the tip of her tongue – until she remembered Davy's birth, those first labor pains, and the unexpected gentleness of Betsey Trotwood's touch.

She remembered the stories David had so proudly told about his aunt. _Her own husband pushed her out of a window, and she survived. Not only that, but she escaped him and went back to her maiden name. She took in a simple-minded man whose own family would have had him shut away. Perhaps, after all, she will understand._

"Very well, Peggotty, but … " She moved closer and dropped her voice even further, straining her ears for any hint of the Murdstones' movements. "How in heaven's name are we to leave the house without waking them? Jane – Miss Murdstone never lets the keys out of her reach … "

Peggotty jerked her gray head meaningfully at the herb cupboard and mimed sprinkling something into the teacup she was washing. Clara's hand went up to stifle a squeak. There were so many ways this plan could go wrong.

But this was for Davy, and his unborn brother or sister. Her hand went to cover her abdomen as she nodded.

_Oh mother, be stronger  
>for all of the tears you have shed.<br>Oh mother, don't look back  
>'cause he'll never hurt us again.<br>So mother, I thank you  
>for all that you've done and still do.<br>You got me, I got you:  
>together we always pull through.<em>

It had been three days since Clara had whispered through Davy's keyhole for him to put on his coat and smuggled him out of the house in the dead of night. Three days since they'd said their tearful goodbyes to Peggotty, leaving her in the carriage with her betrothed, Mr. Barkis, both promising to write. Now, Davy watched through the wooden bars of a chair as Mr. and Miss Murdstone used every tactic at their disposal to coerce them to come back. In contrast to his Aunt Betsey's sunny parlor, the black-clad, sharp-faced siblings looked more like carrion crows than ever. _Oh God, please help Mother to resist. Let her show them what true firmness of character can be. _He was never so relieved in all his life as when Clara drew herself up, taller than he'd ever seen her, and joined Betsey to stand like a sentinel in front of his chair.

_All of your life you have spent  
>burying hurt and regret,<br>but mama … he'll never touch us again._

"Mr. Murdstone," she said, breathless with mixed emotions. "I cannot – I _will_ not let my son live under your roof any longer. Miss Trotwood," touching the older woman's arm and looking up at her with wide dark eyes, "Dear Betsey, _you_ know the truth. I beg you not to turn us out."

"Please, Aunt," Davy chimed in, surprised by his own daring in the face of the Murdstones' petrifying stares.

Betsey, who had seen the marks on Davy's skin as they bathed him, linked arms with Clara and glanced over her shoulder at the pudgy white-haired man hovering in a corner.

"Mr. Dick," said Betsey, smiling, "Whatever shall I do with the child? And her son, of course."

"Do with them? Hmm … " Mr. Dick blinked at them all behind his spectacles like a sleepy little boy. "You should … ring for the maid to bring us tea and cakes!"

"Mr. Dick, your common sense is invaluable!" Betsey and her protegé shared a handshake and a triumphant smile. "And as for you two," meaning the Murdstones, "Won't you be so kind as to clear off so we can enjoy that tea in peace?"

"How dare you" – "Jane, be silent," Mr. Murdstone interrupted his sister through gritted teeth.

"How I dare?" Betsey's voice, rather shrill at the best of times, was reaching a pitch that threatened to shatter the windows. Davy, peering out from behind her skirts, was devoutly thankful to have her as an ally and not an enemy.

"Do you think I don't know," she continued, "What kind of life you must have led this poor unhappy baby – this young woman with more courage and kindness than you have in your shrivelled little souls combined? Do you think I don't understand as well as if I'd seen you – smirking and making eyes at her, as if you couldn't say boo to a goose? And once you had made sure of her, you must begin to train her, must you? Begin to break her like a poor caged bird, teaching her to sing _your_ notes?"

"How exquisitely polite," Miss Murdstone sneered.

_For every time he tried to break you down,  
>just remember who's still around.<br>It's over, and we're stronger,  
>and we'll never have to go back again.<em>

"As for _you,_ ma'am," Betsey wound up, her eyes blazing like hot coals as she moved forward to herd the Murdstones toward the door, "Let me see you ride a donkey over my green again, and as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'll knock your bonnet off and tread upon it!"

The Murdstones, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, linked arms silently and departed the scene. As soon as the door closed on them, Davy emerged from behind his chair and ran toward his mother for the first uninterrupted hug in what felt like years. Mr. Dick lumbered over to throw his arms around both of them. Even Aunt Betsey, keeping a sharp eye on the window to make sure the Murdstones did not return, smiled in a way that made her look ten years younger.

"Does this mean we can stay forever, Mama?" asked Davy.

For the first time in months, Clara threw back her head and laughed with sheer happiness.

"So it does, Davy darling," she said.

_Oh mother, be stronger  
>for all of the tears you have shed.<br>Oh mother, don't look back  
>'cause he'll never hurt us again.<br>So mother, I thank you  
>for all that you've done and still do.<br>You got me, I got you:  
>together we always pull through.<em>


End file.
